


Dreaming of the Namless Princess

by made_of_lions_and_wolves333



Category: El Laberinto del Fauno | Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied Relationships, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 06:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18330350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/made_of_lions_and_wolves333/pseuds/made_of_lions_and_wolves333
Summary: Mercedes raises Ofelia's brother as her own child, along with Pedro. But as eleven years pass, the boy dreams of things beyond this world, like, a certain Princess who rules over the Faerie Folk.





	Dreaming of the Namless Princess

Days after her mother’s burial, Mercedes first misses the warm, excited glint in the woman’s eyes as she would recite fanatical tales from the old country. It seems odd now to finally accept that her mother is gone; that her sickness drained the spirit and passion for life and music right out of her.

Then, as the months pass, Mercedes begins to miss the loving strokes her mother’s hands would provide while they sat together braiding each other's hair. Mercedes tries to provide her baby brother similar tender touches and affection whenever she was left alone to bathe or clothe him, but it just isn’t the same. She could, and would be Pedro’s mother now if he truly needs her to be… although, this means, Mercedes has no mother herself. No one would sit with her to braid her hair, stroke her cheek, and giggle. That’s not what brothers are for. It’s not something boys do with their sisters. Yes, she’d miss her mother for those moments that were so precious and only reserved for women to bond over.

Though, despite what she missed about her mother, Mercedes remembers that it wasn’t _always_ easy living under her mother’s watch either. Since the sickness first took hold, her mother’s judgment sounded unstable at times; she seemed to confuse their real-world ways of living with her collection of wild stories and treated them as the same. No wonder the other children around their village wanted very little interaction from their mother overtime. They teased them and called her _Bruja_ , which just made running errands far worse than they had to be. Her and Pedro after all, were raised with three simple (but uncommon) household rules.

_“Don’t stray into the woods after dark, no matter what you hear. Don’t go looking for fauns, and pray one never finds you. And do not eat any fruit given by a pale tall stranger wandering by shadowy walls.”_

 

Mercedes did obey their mother while it lasted… with some fear and confusion, yes, yet she obeyed.

 

But with little to no choice at all, Mercedes is forced to grow up quickly; she’s a teenaged girl raising her baby brother like her own born child and struggles to find paid work fit for a woman and keep a roof over their heads. War and hunger and the rebellion consumes their lives. Mercedes teaches her brother the only thing that matters is staying alive. Nothing else. They must stay loyal to each other and help each other through this constant turmoil, no matter what it takes. They have to survive through these hard times or be damned for not even trying. So of course they do just that. They leave their childhood behind and forget important details of their mother’s stories.

 

* * *

 

 

It remains this way, until Mercedes falls in love with the Captain’s new step-daughter, the fiery little girl who they call Ofelia. The girl’s clearly a dreamer, bless her young tiny heart, and is very imaginative. The instinctive maternal urge to protect that innocence like hers grows stronger each passing day for Mercedes since it becomes obvious that neither the Captain nor Ofelia’s poor pregnant mother can’t, or won’t, do it themselves.

 

What really strikes a personal chord though, is when Ofelia finds her one day in the cow pasture and says that she’s met a Faun who lives down in the old labyrinths that lie beyond the mansion. That’s when Mercedes’ memories come flooding back, and she even smiles fondly at the silly warnings her mother gave her long ago. And instead of dismissing Ofelia’s curious musings, Mercedes willingly indulges her that afternoon, retelling stories about fauns and their mischievous ventures. For as long as Ofelia takes comfort in faerie-tales, Mercedes won’t be the one to just take that away from her.

 

But sadly in the end, it’s the heart of a young dreamer that does Ofelia in. And, Mercedes immediately blames herself for that much.

Ofelia's fantasies and longing to be a heroin on a grand quest pushes too far. So far that without warning, Ofelia attempts claiming the baby as her most prized possession and flees with him bundled up in her arms. The Captain would not let her best him though, and the bastard had the gull to shoot Ofelia down where she stood, helpless, and all the more naïve and innocent to the dangers of strict and cold mortal men.

For the first time in what felt like decades, Mercedes allows her strength to crumble as she watches Ofelia bleed out to death. Her swordswoman-like resolve is gone and her tears fall down upon the child’s tainted body; the only thing she could bring herself to do in that intense moment was to sing her mother’s lullaby to Ofelia one last time. It was a promise to Ofelia, a pledge to keep singing and watch out for the baby. That way, Ofelia could let go knowing he’d be alright, and she could go in peace.

 

Mercedes of course holds great respect for Ofelia’s memory, and in her honor, she decides to call the baby exactly what he is: Ofelia's Hermanito, _little brother_. Mercedes once again, continues raising a son and brother who’s not from her own womb, but still treats him as such.

 

Along with Pedro, she feeds and clothes Hermanito, teaches him how to walk, speak, and to write to the best of his ability. She does not let him forget that he once had an elder sister, years ago — a sister named Ofelia, who was smart and brave and died selflessly during the raid to save him. That she loved him. The proof is there with him, in the fact that he’s alive and healthy, in the way the wildflowers always bloom the fullest around her gravesite each Spring.

Nevertheless, Mercedes warns him to never go chasing faerie-tales into the night, and to be careful when making hasty wishes, because dreaming can be dangerous if left unchecked.

* * *

 

Under her rightful birth-given title as Princess Moanna, Ofelia flourished in her father’s Royal Court, spending days on end restoring once-forgotten memories and various customs of her people — the Faun meanwhile, being granted the humble role of Right Hand of the Princess, in which he agreed to, solely out of mutual respect for the High Fae King and Queen.

Moanna signed treaties, helped maintain the health of their lands and feasted with her friends and family every morn and eve. She met with neighboring lords and princes and simple agriculturalists alike; she listened to all their worries, their notions, and their tactics. She listened to the daily grievances of the littler Fae, or their deep appreciations. The maids or door-guards offered her their sorrows and their stories as well, if she asked. She heard about distant brothers and sisters, lost husbands and children, about the deadly infection that wasted them away before she had returned home.

The Faun still mentored and shadowed her along the way, providing wise input and suggestions.

Gradually, she became the Queen-in-Waiting they all adored and supported.

She was known to ride on the back of a white, single-horned horse, surveying her lord-father’s countryside and rivers. She happily dedicated herself to any project that was constructive and assured their bounty to last. Banners were sewn and painted in her name after she protected them from both battle and social downscaling. Ballads and poems were written, praising her piling success. She was living up to her reputation, now and as before. Parties and tributes were thrown each month just to celebrate her victories and persistence.

They loved her for trying so hard. They cherished her for loving them first.

The green younglings loved her most of all; around anyone younger than herself, the Princess Moanna was a gentle soul with a burning fire on the inside, ready to lead them away from any flicker of darkness or corruption.

For many long years, all was well.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermanito still dreams every night in spite of his mother’s hopes for him. Sometimes, he’ll still confide in his mother or Uncle Pedro. He’ll share with them in extreme detail the colors and faces he’s able to make out in his mind’s eye while sleeping. But sometimes, he doesn’t share anything. These days, he prefers keeping his visions to himself for it’s no secret that his mother is somewhat superstitious. Mercedes doesn’t typically enjoy hearing him discuss his visions of far-off places, three-faced statues, and strange beings who are beyond their mortal world. He knows this worries her, still after eleven years, no matter how much she’ll pretend otherwise.

He remembers, his sister Ofelia who came before him, once saw certain things her elders couldn’t too, supposedly… and somehow, that ability to shift between realities in order to cope with tensions and heartache ultimately took her life. His mother always said for someone so pure and brave, his sister had met such a cruel fate. Youthful wishing and blind innocence was a rare gift, and yet, it was a fatal curse.

So, Hermanito doesn’t tell anyone about what he sees. Instead he’ll fetch his favorite pen and pad and begin sketching out the scenes he’s already seen unfolding.

He sketches a grand hall, one that’s old and regal-looking with glass windows and marble steps. He sketches a long, wide river running down a grassy hillside and the little winged people who watch over the waters. He’ll sketch a creature that almost appears to be a man, save for the hooves and curling ram horns. He’ll continue sketching a nameless Princess who rules them all, who’s beautiful and girlish but determined. Hermanito does not understand his mental connection with her, but, she always shares a few features that could easily mirror his. For whatever reason that may be, he’ll draw the Princess’ face with his own likeness — though her curls are usually longer than his, flowing off her shoulders— and her nose is a bit more delicate in comparison. Though she definitely is what he imagined Ofelia would look like today if she were still with them now.

 

 


End file.
